


Hunger

by AutumnalCoconut



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (for sure), Anger, Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Metaphors, Past Relationship(s), Purple Prose, Regret, hint: love-making compared to natural elements and calamities, hope you like symbolism, lots of metaphors, nonsensical but there's an explanation (some sort of) behind it, probably this isn't what you expected, sleepless nights make me think of ideas I then have trouble chasing, they messed up and now there's sadness, yes that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnalCoconut/pseuds/AutumnalCoconut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Soon your touch will disappear</i>
  <br/>
  <i>It's something that I recognise</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Something that I should have come to fear</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

There’s thunder inside and a flash of teeth and skin, stars collide in an explosion of nails scratching flesh and beating hearts pounding so hard a chest isn’t enough to contain them.  
The dark outside isn’t the right shade of black to obscure the spark of burning life igniting in bodies too real, too material to feel the centuries flowing in their veins, crawling under the skin as if they were fingers travelling miles on delicate surfaces – too afraid to push hard enough to break them, too eager not to leave marks.  
It’s true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the gleam in his eyes burns like fire and is as powerful as waves crashing on shores during a storm, taking in all they can and leaving behind nothing but remnants of what once used to be: not a single breath is spared, not a single life left unscathed.  
The meeting of their existence is the clash of worlds trying to overthrow each other, worlds distant light-years and yet so similar it’s scary – if the hands of one are as dainty as the wings of a butterfly, the other’s are a tornado itself.

_(Connected, apart. It’s still unclear where it is that one starts and the other ends)_

Heavy limbs, pitch black room.  
A bed floating in the darkness like an island astray. The ceiling.  
Minds swirling relentlessly, matching the ticking of the clock—time flows inexorably, leaving in the air a lingering sense of fragile instability, mining the illusion of an equilibrium built on the trails of a dream. The universe keeps on moving: so do the hours and the infinitesimal souls who said universe inhabit, tragic spirits waiting for a calamity to strike and bring an end to the endless furor and pain and visceral fear animating their being. So deep is their desire for a disaster, their need for clarity, that they try to dare the gods above, rooting for the idea of Earth stopped on her spinning motion, fixated to an indefinite spot in the Void.  
And love is ephemeral, just like an entity faintly disappearing without leaving a clue of its transition – there could be hope in the arrival of morning light just as much as despair, looking for redemption is trying to catch breath underwater, with lungs filled with regret and a ribcage crushing itself in an irrational attempt at protection.  
_To protect what, though._  
The feeling of loss is closely linked to fingers tangled in owl feathers, pulling hard as to eradicate the undying will of flying away and disappearing from sight and reaching heights a mortal creature shouldn’t even be allowed to dream of – or, perhaps, as to finally hold onto something stronger than reality. A nice, tight grip.  
Silver and black, pillars of creation bound to collapse – pointing upwards, aiming for the peaks, destined to bend under the weight of responsibilities and bad choices, guilt twisting his insides and burning like the marks left by lips on his skin. There’s no salvation for those who chose to suffer, only seas of longing and stars of anger—irritation raises from the inside like a hurricane, memories hit hard (a punch to the belly) and breath suddenly missing.  
That’s what they are: those two bodies entwined are nothing but voices not flowing like water, instead scratching like sand and stone, raising up in the aftermath of what could have been and losing a former meaning in the labyrinth of their own minds. They know that.  
The soul of the world lives on scars which can’t be seen, it feeds on words thought but never spoken out loud, or that hover in the air before even taking form in the mind. The future’s hands grab and drag the fools with a force stronger than gravity; the weight of pressure in the darkest depths of the oceans is the same as the one felt beyond the atmosphere. Black, just like the Oblivion.  
Just like a cat and his increasing heartbeat at the thought of invisible arms wrapped around his shoulders, breath in his hair, heat that radiates from the inside and transforms into Summer the coldest Winter of his dull existence.

_(Hidden behind consciousness, the same old feeling endures--- that the thought of missing someone is greater than love and absence themselves)_  
  
The curse bestowed on those who have sinned is the quiet sharing of a secret, the painfully indisputable belief that they’re born to live in a constant state of longing and mourning – because what it’s done, can’t be undone and the opposite applies too and sin isn’t something which can be forgiven, for it calls for punishment and dread.  
And the thrill of the hunt is what traps the predators together, kin souls understand just as much as they despise each other— they’re selfish, unkind; once a prey to bruise has been found, they leave it behind: when the remains can’t be forsaken, though, the beasts return on the beaten path.  
_A ritual union._  
  
Skin on skin, they finally move.  
No caress awaits them, no gentle word.  
The sun forces his uncompassionate rays in the room, wounding those who lay yet again filled with remorse.  
“I love you more when I miss you”  
“I love you not, the danger in distance is what I yearn for”  
There’s a slight but sure shifting in the air, mimicking the cut of bonds and sudden lack of touch, back turning to the other’s back. Separation.  
Eyes burning like dying stars: they don’t meet – not even when they part.

**Author's Note:**

> _Well if I could apologise_   
>  _Put the light back in your eyes_   
>  _No one’s ever looked at me that way_   
>  [[*]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WmiZFJ34fM)


End file.
